The Victorian Seven Dials: ‘Where misery clings to misery for a little warmth”

The voices of Victorian London, as numerous and as voluble as they are, allow us to paint a fairly intimate portrait of life on the streets of the nineteenth-century capital. Alongside the fictional narratives that give strong colour to our modern perceptions of the Victorian era, perhaps most notably those of Charles Dickens, a flurry of social commentators tirelessly documented how people lived, worked, and looked as they went about their daily business.

My two interests in the history of print culture and genealogy conveniently converge in one particular area of London – the parish of St Giles, nestled between the Borough of Camden and Covent Garden. It was famously depicted in William Hogarth’s Gin Lane (1751), which promised to get you “Drunk for a penny, Dead drunk for two pence” – an easy task considering that one in four houses was said to double up as a gin shop. It was later called a place “where misery clings to misery for a little warmth, and want and disease lie down side by side, and groan together” (Keats).

Imagine my delight, then, when I discovered that generations of my nineteenth-century ancestors called this distinctly disreputable parish home. Even better, they were born and brought up in that “hotbed of villainy”, the Seven Dials. The promise of intrigue and criminality haunting the footsteps of the Victorian Brand family immediately caught my eye, but alas!, thus far they have proved a fairly unassuming bunch of saddlers and hatmakers. Nevertheless, I have had great fun researching the streets where my family were raised and practised their trades.

That the parish was dedicated to St Giles – the patron saint of lepers, beggars, cripples, the miserable and the lonely – could perhaps be held to account for the sorrows it has suffered throughout history. However, he was seen as an appropriate choice with the establishment of a hospital for lepers in the twelfth century. As London developed, this ill-defined area attracted not only the foreigners and vagrants expelled from the city itself (with a particularly large Irish community), but also to a handful of notables wishing to settle closer to Westminster. By the 17th century, the contrast between rich and poor was stark. The Booth Poverty map (shown above) was compiled in the late nineteenth century to illustrate the relative wealth of the inhabitants of London, indicated by the colour allocated to their street. It seems that the Seven Dials (the crossroads in the centre) housed those of “ordinary earnings”, peppered with those suffering “chronic want” and the “vicious, semi-criminal”.

The reputation of the parish was little improved by the fact that this was where the Great Plague first reared its ugly head in 1664, and it was generally held that “that one parish of St Giles at London hath done us all this mischief.” By the Victorian era, the Seven Dials could at least boast a bustling (if not exactly high-end) trade in “glass bottles, rags, old iron, left-off clothing, and second-hand toothbrushes”. It was also “the abode of bird-fanciers”, and both Great St Andrew Street and Little St Andrew Street (which have now combined to become Monmouth Street) could boast a number of “bird keepers”, “bird cage dealers” and the occasional “bird and beast preserver.” The image below from Thomas Miller’s Picturesque Sketches of London (1852) suggests that the aforementioned beasts could mean anything from a dog to a pig.

Perhaps the sense of depravity could be brightened by a little birdsong, but the area certainly continued in its inclinations towards crime, poverty and vice of all persuasions. A stone’s throw from the theatre district of Drury Lane, the local area was home to countless bawdy-houses and streetwalkers, conspiring with swarms of thieves to empty the pockets of passers-by. In 1865, one visitor wrote “all about are man whose countenances and general appearance proclaim them to be thieves and cadgers.” Indeed, crime rates were among the highest across the whole of London, and it was widely acknowledged that “the walk through the Dials after dark was an act none but a lunatic would have attempted.” One such booze-fuelled effort in the 1860s was described thus:

A swaggering ass named Corrigan… once undertook for a wager to walk the entire length of Great Andrew Street at midnight, and if molested to annihilate his assailants. The half-dozen doubters who awaited his advent in the Broadway were surprised about 1a.m. to see him running as fast as he could put his legs to the ground, with only the remnant of a shirt on him; after recovering his breath and his courage he proceeded to describe the terrific slaughter he had inflicted on an innumerable number of assailants.

I like to think that Corrigan might have been an acquaintance or friend of the 19th-century Brand family, who at this time had long been living and working on the very street that deprived him of his clothes and money. Or perhaps it is more likely that they numbered among his attackers? The history of London is so cast and well-documented that anyone with a connection to the capital cannot fail to find any number of treasure that lend a personal touch to the lives of their ancestors. The Booth Poverty maps, the etchings of Gustave Doré and the journalism of Henry Mayhew, among countless other commentators, combine to provide a lively picture of times past and those who lived through them. And herein lies the fascination of having a family history in the capital ­– these ancestors are my own personal connection to the History I know and love.

I have also traced my ancendants to Monmouth Street, but it gets a bit tricky prior to 1741. Mine made the upholstery and fringes for horse carriages. After reading this it has inspired me to renew my research. Thank you!

Hello,my names Toby Mayor,a relative of yours as my great-grandmother (little nan) was Jessie Brand,originally of 11 little st andrews street,seven dials.I remember her well,a short dark woman who seldom spoke,but when she did,had a peculiar way of talking,which my grandmother understood unlike the rest of us.The Brands were said to be romanies,which could explain jessies odd speech.I last saw her in the sixties,she was in a wheelchair after having had both legs amputated,and died shortly afterwards.I,d be very interesed to hear from you,particularly if you know anything about the Brands other than the information on the various censuses.Jessie once said that her father had channel island connections,would you know anything about this?Anyway hope your well,all the best,Toby.

Hi Emily
My Great Great Great Grandparents (Sophia Abbott White nee Foster and John White) were living at 6 Great St Andrews Street in 1849 when my Great Great Grandmother (Alice Matilda Packham nee White) was born. Sophia ended up in Ballarat in Victoria Australia. She claimed to be the Great Grand Neice of Charles Abbott the 1st Baron of Tenterden. I am not sure why she was living in Seven Dials. John White was a Leather Seller at the time. Any info you have would be of great interest.
Wendy Murphy nee Packham

I really enjoyed your well-written description of Seven Dials. My ancestors also lived here, though on Queen and Tower Streets. The family names were Stewart, Saunders, and Phillips (occupations: excavator (is that a fancy term for ditch-digger???), dairyman, and coachman). The poverty they endured must have been horrendous, judging from the over-crowding indicated by the census. Ann Saunders Stewart died at age 31 of hematemesis and exhaustion; her sister from typhoid during one of the periodic epidemics. Grim, indeed. It’s only by sheer good luck that I’m here today!
Best wishes,

Very interesting. My husband & I have been researching his mother’s family who were based in Great St Andrews & Little St Andrews Street. William Samuel Jasper Fortey (printer) and Jasper John Fortey (bicycle maker). We have one of William Fortey’s printed books ‘Cockey Adventures’ with William’s signature and details in the front cover. Catnach Steam Press, W S Fortey, Printer Publisher & Wholesale Fancy Stationer, 2 & 3 Monmouth Court, Seven Dials, London

Great piece, we have an avid interest in this area as we have a re enactment group that portrays the early Victorian poor and the “rougher” side of life. Our Group name….The Seven Dials Rapscallions. http://www.sevendialsrapscallions.co.uk/

I found this really interesting. I have ancestors who lived in Seven Dials. One of them managed to become a music professor even after becoming blind as a child. I find it amazing that he could achieve this coming from such a poor background. It must have been really tough in those hard times. Thankyou